


Michibiki

by Sanalith



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Alternate Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hikaru quits playing Go, Akira tries to change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Michibiki

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place towards the end of the series, when Hikaru stops playing Go in an effort to bring Sai back. It’s a rather self-serving fic, and it’s a type I don’t normally write, but here it is. I love everything about this series, but one thing that seriously disturbed me was that Isumi was the one who convinced Hikaru to play his first comeback game. As his rival, I thought Akira should have been the one who brought Hikaru back to the world of Go, and the one who helped Hikaru to find Sai in his game. I also thought there was a perfect opening for this when Akira invaded Hikaru’s school, and I was disappointed it didn’t develop. This is my take on what I thought should have happened. It’s obviously nowhere near as good as the actual story, but I still had fun writing it. The beginning scenes come straight from the anime episodes, with a few minor embellishments of my own. The title comes from one of the songs from the OST, meaning “Guidance.”

Touya Akira considered himself a patient man.  He also saw himself as resourceful.  There were very few things in life that he wanted and lacked, not because his father was rich and famous, but because he simply deduced what was necessary to get what he wanted and then did it.  Perhaps most importantly, Akira saw himself as reserved.  This had earned him the title of snob more than once, but he liked the solitude such a designation afforded him.  He despised making small talk, especially before a match, and he hated that the press believed his talents entitled them to force their way into his innermost thoughts.  His companions tended to be older than himself because he needed their maturity and reserve, and they were generally part of his father’s circle of students.  Since they already knew the famous Meijin, they had no need to befriend Akira for that purpose.  If the cost of a little privacy was a lack of close friends and an icy persona, then so be it.

 

So why did this all turn into so much dust around Shindou Hikaru?

 

When Hikaru had failed to show up at his Ooteai match, Akira had grit his teeth and swallowed a sharp surge of disappointment.  He had desperately wanted to watch the other boy play, to judge how far he had progressed.  He tried to control his emotions, telling himself there could have been a perfectly reasonable explanation.  Still, judging from Waya Yoshitaka’s expression, his absence hadn’t been planned.  A wave of anger had briefly followed his disappointment, but the beginning of the match had halted more opportunity for reflection.

 

- _I’ll see him soon,_ \- Akira had thought, anger and resentment giving way to grim determination.  – _I just have to wait.  I’ll see him play soon enough._ -

 

Patience had reigned for a short time…and then the Wakajishisen had come.  Akira was off to the side, out of the crowd as always, but his sharp ears were tuned to the muttered conversation around him.

 

“Shindou-kun isn’t here.”  Shinoda-sensei’s concerned voice.

 

“He didn’t come to his Ooteai match or Morishita-sensei’s study session, either.”  Waya this time, anger and disgust coating his voice.

 

Anger…

 

- _What right do_ you _have to be angry?_ \- Akira had thought irrationally.  – _He’s_ my _rival! He owes_ me _the explanation!_ -

 

Fifteen years of calm reserve battled with one boy’s ability to shake Akira’s world, and in the end, yet another wave of bitter anger and disappointment won out.

 

Akira slammed his fist against the wall, his teeth clenched in rage.  He felt the shocked eyes of those around him boring into his back.  Normally, such a violent display of emotion would shame him.  He was a Touya, after all.  Public outbursts were supposed to be beneath him.  But at that moment, he didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought.  The only person he cared about was the one he couldn’t seem to find.

 

- _Shindou…why aren’t you here?_ -  The silent demand went unanswered, as he knew it would, but the overwhelming desire to know what was going on overrode all rational thought.

 

The time for patience had ended.

 

Straightening his tie, Akira walked purposefully toward his chair.  There was a dangerous glint in his narrowed eyes that sent everyone in his path scattering.

 

 _-This is war, Shindou,_ \- he thought silently, a plot already hatching in his mind.  – _If you won’t come to me, then you’d better be damned sure I’m going to find you._ -

 

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

This was the second time Akira had breached the gates of Haze Jr. High, and he was determined that this visit would go better than the last.  – _Just try slamming another window in my face, Shindou_ ,- he silently raged.  – _Not this time.  This time you’re going to talk._ -  His eyes narrowed into emerald slits.  – _And this time I’m going to make you play._ -

 

Akira had almost begged that day, his desire to battle Hikaru overriding his normal inhibitions.  Today would be different.  Today he would get answers.

 

Not knowing where anything but the Go club was, Akira took a chance and walked over to the window on the side of the school.  Sure enough, Fujisaki Akari was sliding open the window, the breeze gently blowing her hair.  Akira thought briefly of asking her if she knew anything about Hikaru’s sudden behavior change, but he ultimately decided against it.  Second-hand information wouldn’t be satisfying anymore.  He needed to talk to Hikaru. 

 

- _Shindou…_ -

 

“Touya-kun?”

 

Akari’s singsong voice penetrated the haze in Akira’s brain and pulled him back into the present.  Stepping closer, he asked, “Has Shindou gone home yet?”

 

“Hikaru?” Akari hesitated, looking sorry.  “I’m not sure.  I’m in a different class, and___”

 

“Shindou is in the library.”

 

Akira looked up at an unfamiliar girl whom Akari addressed as Kaneko.  She gave him brief directions and he thanked her, grateful that she had asked no questions.  He had thought long and hard about what he was going to say when he finally found Hikaru, but all the words seemed to be turning to dust in his throat.  He wanted nothing more than to shake the other boy and demand to know what kind of game he thought he was playing, but Akira knew that would be the quickest way _not_ to get an answer.  Hikaru had a tendency to bolt like a frightened animal whenever he felt cornered, and the last thing Akira wanted was to be forced into a 500-meter dash.

 

- _Calm…I have to stay calm…_ -

 

Akira rounded a corner and entered the library.  He tensed automatically, as though preparing for battle, but the sight that greeted him literally knocked the breath from his lungs.

 

Perhaps staying calm wouldn’t be so hard after all.

 

The library was decently fully, but Akira’s sharp eyes alighted on Hikaru almost immediately.  That in and of itself was no surprise.  Akira had a feeling he’d be able to sense Hikaru’s presence no matter how crowded a room he was in.  What _was_ a shock was the abject sadness and helplessness radiating from him.

 

Hikaru was slumped down at a table by himself, his head buried in his arms.  For a moment, Akira thought he might be crying, but no.  He was apparently only lost in thought, taking advantage of the quiet library setting.

 

A quiet Akira was being forced to shatter.

 

- _Forgive me, Shindou,_ \- Akira thought, the other boy’s limp posture bringing a wave of sympathy to the forefront, - _but you’ve left me no choice._ -

 

Akira silently made his way over to Hikaru’s table, then pulled out the chair next to him.  Leaning down, so as not to disturb the other students, he whispered, “Shindou.”

 

The sound of his own name, quiet though it was, was apparently enough to bring Hikaru out of whatever trance he was in.  He raised his head and blinked hard against the bright lights, forcing his eyes to focus.

 

Then the room came into alignment, and Akira materialized next to him.

 

“WAH!”  Hikaru’s piercing scream caused many students to glare, as he catapulted himself six inches into the air.  “T…T…Touya!” he cried.  “What _is_ it?  Why do you always appear so suddenly?”  He placed a hand on his chest and glared accusingly.  “It’s bad for my heart!”

 

Any other time, Akira might have been amused by the other boy’s antics, but not that day.  His eyes never left Hikaru’s as he slid into his chair.  “Why didn’t you come to the Wakajishisen?” he demanded quietly.  His voice was firm but, he hoped, not accusing.  “Why did you skip your Ooteai match?  Is something wrong?”

 

Akira hadn’t known Hikaru all that long, but he also felt as though the bond they shared allowed him to know the other boy better than those who had grown up with him.  He had expected Hikaru to either brush off the question or make a lame excuse, if he didn’t simply snap a retort and stalk off.  What he didn’t expect was Hikaru’s eyes to darken with pain and his normally cheerful and open expression to cloud over.  An irate Hikaru he could deal with.  A troubled and helpless Hikaru was something else entirely.

 

“I’m no good.”

Akira’s head snapped up.  “You’re no…what?”  His surprise was openly reflected in his wide eyes.  Whatever he had expected Hikaru to say, it wasn’t a blatant falsehood like that.  “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean it’s a waste for someone like me to play!” Hikaru snapped back.

 

– _You’re my rival! I_ need _you to play!_ -  But Hikaru’s painful expression told him that the other boy needed a gentle reminder more than he did a shouting match.

 

“I disagree.”

 

Hikaru’s eyes widened incredulously, as though he couldn’t believe what Akira had just said.  “Touya…”

 

- _He looks as surprised as I feel…oh Shindou, what’s happened to you?_ -  “I think you’re wrong.”  Akira pitched his voice low, but his tone brooked no argument and his eyes bore sharply into Hikaru’s.  “I know what you’re capable of, Shindou.  Someone with your drive and passion…”  He shook his head in genuine confusion.  “How can you possibly say it’s a waste for you to play?”

 

For a brief moment, Hikaru’s eyes seemed to truly come into focus, as though he was waking up from a long sleep.  Hope surged though Akira.  – _Did I get through…?_ -

 

But then something happened, and his eyes shuttered over once again.  Hikaru tore his gaze from Akira and said firmly, “I won’t play anymore.”

 

Akira’s eyes widened in shock.  “You won’t play?” he demanded.  Hikaru couldn’t have said anything else that would have cut through his soul like those simple words. 

– _How long have I waited for this?_ \- he demanded silently, anger mounting.  – _How long for you to catch up to me?  Now you’re here…now I can finally see your true strength…and you pull_ this _on me???_ -

 

Akira’s vow to remain calm evaporated into so much smoke as Hikaru’s words echoed in his mind.  He pushed back his chair so quickly it almost toppled over as he snarled, “Stop screwing around!”

 

Hikaru’s wide eyes were full of pain and sorrow at Akira’s outburst, but Akira barely noticed.  His fists were clenched and his eyes were narrowed, as though prepared to do battle.  He loathed losing his temper, especially in public, but something about Hikaru always seemed to bring out his most tightly leashed emotions.  The thought vaguely crossed his mind that the last time he’d blown up was during the third board match between Kaiou and Haze, when he’d growled out those exact same words to a stunned Hikaru.

 

- _I thought you wanted to redeem yourself from that match,_ \- Akira silently raged.  – _What kind of game are you playing, Shindou?_ -

 

Hikaru looked up at him with desperate eyes, as though he could read his rival’s mind, and before Akira could so much as blink, the blond boy snatched up his bag and bolted.  “I’m sorry!”

 

“Shindou!”  Akira watched in horror as Hikaru raced out of the library.  After a split second’s hesitation, Akira took to his heels and tore after him.

 

They raced through the halls of the school, past shocked students and irate teachers, and then through the gates and out to the streets.  There was no way Akira could catch up with him, so he threw caution to the wind and shouted, not caring who was close enough to hear.  “Shindou!  Why did you become a pro?  Wasn’t it to fight me?  Shindou!!”

 

Hikaru showed no signs of slowing.  If anything, he started running faster.  Akira looked after him in anger, his mind whirling with confusion and rage.  _–Shindou…_ -

 

Touya Akira was normally a poster child for calm, rational behavior.  He never raised his voice, was always polite, and he gave people space when they obviously needed it.

 

But all bets were off where Hikaru was concerned.

 

There was a time when Akira would have admitted defeat.  Hikaru already had a huge head start and was twice as fast as Akira to begin with, since the younger Touya rarely elevated his pace beyond an elegant saunter.  He never would have considered making a spectacle of himself by barreling down the street pursuing someone.

 

But those days were over, and if Hikaru had taught him nothing else, it was that some things were worth fighting for.

 

- _Not this time, Shindou_ ,- he thought fiercely.  – _This time we’re going to finish the game._ -

 

With that, Akira began to run.

 

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *          

 

It took all the strength Hikaru had, and some he didn’t, not to simply collapse once he made it home.  The pain of disappointing Touya Akira yet again had cut him deeper than he ever thought possible.  It was worse, far worse, than his anguish after the third board match.  At least then there had been time.  Time for Hikaru to improve, time for Sai to teach him…

 

Sai.

 

Hikaru’s stomach twisted and he fought back the familiar flood of tears.  – _I’m sorry, Touya,_ \- he thought silently.  – _I know how you feel.  I want to play Sai, too, but…_ -  He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, leaning his forehead against the door.  – _But Sai is gone!_ -

 

Gone…gone for good, and there was nothing Hikaru could do except mourn his friend and regret his own foolish pride.

 

- _Why would anyone want to play me?_ \- he thought bitterly, pushing open the front door of his house.  – _With Sai around, why did I waste everyone’s time?_ -  His hand clenched on the doorknob.  – _Touya.  Sai was always your rival, not me.  Never me…_ -

 

That thought hurt almost as much as Sai’s disappearance.

 

Resolving himself to yet another restless night, Hikaru stepped inside.  “I’m ho___” he began.

 

“Shindou!”

 

Whirling around in shock, Hikaru beheld a red-faced but very determined Touya Akira, who was catching his breath by the road.

 

“Touya!  What the hell…”  Hikaru could only shake his head in wonder, pain and panic at the diamond-hard eyes glaring at him.  Calm, cool Touya Akira had disregarded his image and his pride and run all the way here, to face him.  Under any other circumstances, Hikaru would have been overjoyed to finally command his attention.  But now, he could only feel regret.

 

- _I’m sorry, Touya.  You came all this way…chasing a shadow that no longer exists…_ -

 

Akira’s eyes never left Hikaru’s as his heart rate slowly went back to normal.  He’d followed Hikaru straight to his home, and of course the other boy had sprinted the entire way.  – _If only Father could see me now,_ \- he thought ruefully.  But none of that mattered now.  There was nowhere left for Hikaru to run.  This time, he would get answers.

 

“Shindou,” he said quietly, walking purposefully toward the house, “we need to talk.”

 

For a moment, Hikaru simply stood there, half inside his house with one hand still gripping the doorknob.  His knuckles were white, showing Akira the depth of his tension and fear.  His eyes flicked back and forth between the house, Akira and the street, and Akira was half afraid he would try to bolt again.

 

- _Just try it…I’ll follow you wherever you go…_ -

 

As though hearing Akira’s mental vow, Hikaru sighed and released the door.  He apparently decided to settle for the direct approach, although it was significantly less hostile than usual.  In fact, Akira was shocked at how tired Hikaru seemed.

 

“Touya, please, just go home,” he pleaded quietly.  “I have nothing to say and nothing to offer you.”

 

Akira held his ground.  “I’m not leaving until you explain to me why you stopped playing,” he retorted.

 

Hikaru looked almost desperate.  “I don’t have an answer for you.  Just go away and leave me alone.”

 

Akira shook his head.  “If you won’t explain, then at least play a game.”  His eyes narrowed.  “You owe me that much.”

 

Hikaru stiffened at the challenge.  – _It’s not me you want,_ \- he thought miserably.  – _I’m sorry, Touya, so sorry…I want to play him again, too…_ -  “I told you, I won’t play anymore,” he snapped, trying to use anger to mask his pain.  “Now go away!”

 

“Shindou!”

 

  1. “I don’t have what you’re looking for!  I know you think I do, but I don’t!”      



 

“But___”

 

“Just GO!” he shouted, and made as if to slam to door in his rival’s face.

 

“Hikaru, is that you?  What’s going on out there?” 

 

Hikaru silently cursed in as many ways as he knew how.  Raising his eyes heavenward, his heart sank.  – _What did I do to deserve this???_ -

 

His mother poked her head out of the door.

 

“Oh, we have a visitor?” she asked curiously.

 

“He was just leaving,” Hikaru retorted firmly, trying once again to slam the door on an irate Touya, who looked _anything_ like he was ready to leave.

 

“What?  Leaving without coming in?  Nonsense!”

 

Hikaru’s heart sank as she briskly brushed past him and opened the door.  His mother was hardly ever a pushy woman.  In fact, if he was being honest, Hikaru knew he had a tendency to walk all over her.  However, there was one thing she did insist on, and that was impeccable hospitality.  She was the perfect hostess, and rudeness toward guests was simply not tolerated.

 

Even _uninvited_ guests.

 

“Do come in and make yourself at home,” she gushed, gesturing for Akira to come inside.  “I’ll bring you some tea and snacks.”

 

“Mom, I really don’t have time for this,” Hikaru protested.  He knew it was probably useless to naysay her, but he had to try.  He was _not_ up for one of his signature shouting matches with Akira, and he wanted more time alone to mentally heal from Sai’s abrupt disappearance.

 

“Hikaru, that was very impolite,” his mother admonished.  “Now apologize to your guest and move out of the way so he can come in.”

 

Hikaru turned desperately to Akira, his eyes pleading.  – _Don’t you understand I can’t deal with you right now?_ \- he demanded silently.  – _Please, just go away!_ -

 

Akira was visibly torn.  On the one hand, he wanted, _needed_ , desperately to understand what had happened to alter his rival so drastically.  As he’d said, he was willing to settle for a game, but if Hikaru played as well as he expected, he knew that one game would never be able to satisfy him, and he’d only end up wanting more.  Somehow, he had change Hikaru’s mind and get him to return to the world of Go.  And to do that, they needed to talk.

 

On the other hand…

 

Akira looked deeply into Hikaru’s eyes and saw the pain and anguish that was twisting him into a stranger and slowly sapping his will to go on.  He was clearly in no condition to do battle.  Besides, he was a Touya, and politeness was ingrained in his blood.  If Hikaru honestly didn’t want him there, it would be wrong to use his mother’s kind nature to force his way in.  Had it been anyone else, Akira would have bowed, apologized, and walked away.

 

But then again, had it been anyone else, Akira would never have come so far in the first place.

 

Turning to face his rival, Akira whispered, “Please, Shindou, I have to know.”

 

That statement, soft though it was, seemed to push Hikaru over the edge.

 

“I already told you I’m not playing!” he cried.  “Why the hell do you care so much anyway?  What business of it is yours if I quit?”  His eyes burned into Akira’s.  “What right do you have to demand so much of me?”

 

“Hikaru!”  His mother looked shocked.  “Honestly!  Have I taught you no manners?”

 

“No, it’s all right.”

 

Both Hikaru and his mother looked up at Akira in surprise, but he had eyes only for his rival.  A lance of pain had stabbed into his gut at Hikaru’s words, making him feel as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

 

- _Why the hell do you care so much…What business of it is yours…What right do you have…?_ -

 

Those words rang through Akira’s mind, and his fingers curled into a fist at his side.  He looked Hikaru directly in the eye and said quietly, “If you have to ask me that, then maybe you’re right.  Maybe I should just go.”

 

“Touya,” Hikaru whispered.  “I’m…sorry.  I…I…”  Words failing him, he dropped his head in shame.  “I’m sorry.”

 

Akira wanted Hikaru to shout at him, to fly into a rage, to do _something_ other than stand there and look like he wanted to die.

 

“I have nothing left to give you,” Hikaru whispered brokenly.  “Nothing…”

 

Akira hesitated, then slowly stepped forward.  “Will you let me be the judge of that?” he asked quietly.  “Will you just listen to what I have to say?”

 

Hikaru said nothing, but Akira could tell the moment the fight went out of him.  His shoulders slumping, he turned and went inside, slipping off his shoes.  Without turning, he headed up the stairs toward his room.

 

Hikaru’s mother, looking significantly more frazzled than before, stepped back to allow Akira inside.  “Please, just follow him upstairs and make yourself at home.  I’ll be up with some tea in a moment.”

 

Akira smiled as he took off his shoes.  “Thank you, but I’m fine.  I just need to talk to him for a few minutes.”

 

“I’m terribly sorry about his behavior,” she said, her voice coated with concern.  “He’s usually not so impolite, but he’s been acting very strangely lately.  I don’t know what’s wrong.”

 

Akira looked upstairs, where Hikaru was just disappearing around the bend.  “That’s what I intend to find out,” he said quietly.

 

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

Akira found Hikaru sitting on the floor in the middle of his bedroom.  His backpack had been carelessly thrown into a corner, and he was staring listlessly out the window.  Akira stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, and Hikaru looked up at the soft click.

 

The two silently stared at one another for a few moments, then Akira said quietly, “I’m sorry.  I know you’re not ready to talk right now, and it’s probably wrong of me to force you, but whether you choose to accept it or not, this is hurting me, too.”

 

Hikaru refused to meet the other boy’s eyes, but in the end he gave a reluctant nod.  “I know it is.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said what I did just now.  You _do_ have some claim on me, and I understand that.”  He smiled dryly, though there was no happiness in it.  “If our positions were reversed, I probably would have chased you home, too.”  His hand clenched into a fist.  “Be that as it may, I meant what I said at the library.  I’m not playing anymore.  I can’t.”  His face twisted in pain.  “But trust me, you’re not missing out on anything.  I never should have played to being with.  I was never the rival you thought I was.”

 

Akira gingerly knelt down next to his rival, this time determined to keep his cool.  Whatever was happening was obviously hurting Hikaru deeply, and right then he needed a friend more than a fight.  “Your current progress would suggest otherwise,” he noted.  “Before you stopped coming to your matches, I had it on good authority that you were getting better.”  His eyes clouded over.  “Certainly much better than the last time we played.”

 

Hikaru barked out a harsh laugh.  “You’re wrong,” he said bitterly, averting his eyes.  “That was all I had.”  - _Not even_ ,- he acknowledged silently.  – _Sai played the first half of that game._ -

 

“Nonsense,” Akira said briskly, and Hikaru looked up in surprise at his confident tone.  “Now you’re just playing for sympathy.”

 

Hikaru’s eyes darkened.  “I know exactly how strong I am,” he retorted.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”  - _Sai was the only truly strong part of me.  I had nothing to do with it._ -

 

“You’re wrong,” Akira replied calmly.  “That Shindou Hikaru had barely any chance of becoming an Insei, much less a pro.  There’s no way you would have passed the exam if you played the way you did at that tournament,”

 

Hikaru grit his teeth, frustrated by Akira’s flawless logic.  He was right, of course, and Hikaru knew he _had_ gotten stronger.  But…  - _Not strong enough…not strong enough to challenge you…not nearly strong enough to replace Sai…_ -  He squeezed his eyes shut.  – _Why was it Sai who disappeared?  Why not me?_ I _was the selfish one!_ He _was the genius!!_ -

 

“I’m not good enough to play, no matter what you think,” Hikaru replied finally.  “And I’m not playing anymore.”

 

Akira slammed a fist on Hikaru’s carpet, momentarily losing his cool.  “Why do you insist on believing such an obvious lie?” he demanded.  “We both know you’re one of the strongest pros our age.  Let me prove it to you!”  - _Let me see how strong you really are, Shindou!_ \- he silently begged.  – _Be the rival I know you are!_ -

 

“I can’t!” Hikaru cried.  “I’m not good enough for you, can’t you see that?”  Pain twisted his features.  “I don’t have the right to even challenge you,” he whispered.

 

Akira took in his anguished features and the helplessness coating his words, and his heart gave a strange twist.  – _Shindou…what happened to you?_ -  Not too long ago, Hikaru would have jumped at the chance to play Akira.  But now…

 

“You’re wrong, Shindou,” Akira said quietly.  “ _Anyone_ has the right to challenge another player.”  A faint smile touched his lips, though his tone was still grave.  “There’s no guarantee that you’ll win, but you always have the right to play.”  - _All you need is the will…the fire…the passion you had even before you had skill.  Show me that, Shindou!_ -

 

Hikaru was silent for a moment as he absorbed Akira’s response.  When he finally raised his eyes, the other boy flinched at the weariness and resignation reflected in the sea-green depths.  “Let me ask you a question, Touya,” he said quietly.  “You said anyone had the right to challenge another player, but what you meant was that a person of _any skill level_ could challenge a player regardless of their ranking.”  Hikaru lowered his eyes to his hand, and he squeezed it into a fist.  “I know I can play well.  I’m still not at your level, but I’m getting damn close.”  He paused.  “But can you honestly say you’d accept a match from someone who wasn’t worthy to play the game?  How could you in good conscience lower yourself to play someone who disrespected the game, even if he was almost as strong as you?”

 

Akira’s lips parted as he stared at Hikaru in shock.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he breathed.  – _My God…Shindou, what happened to you?_ -

 

This was worse, far worse, than Hikaru simply denying his own skill.  Akira had no idea what could have twisted his logic so much, but whatever it was had him good.

 

“What in the world ever gave you the idea that you weren’t worthy to play Go?” Akira demanded quietly.

 

Hikaru barked out a disbelieving laugh.  “You have to ask me that?  You of all people should know!  You were the one I was ranting to about taking a title or two for the money the day after I played my first game.  You were the one who challenged me to defend your precious sensibilities.”  Hikaru averted his eyes.  “I’m selfish; I always have been.  But what I’ve done over the last two years…what I denied the world for my own stupid pride…it’s unforgivable.  I should never be allowed to play Go again.”  His voice cracked.  “I’m _not_ worthy.”

 

Akira hesitated, but it seemed as though he’d finally opened a floodgate.  He’d come here looking for answers, but this strange twist made him suddenly unsure if he had the right to force them.

 

- _Shindou…_ -

 

No, now was not the time for doubt.  Hikaru needed to talk, and if anyone deserved to know the truth, he knew he did.

 

“What did you do that could possibly make you see yourself as so unworthy?” Akira asked finally.

 

Hikaru was silent for a long time, and Akira could see his inward struggle as he fought to decide how much, if anything, to reveal.  Whatever was going on was obviously tearing him apart, but there was no way he could offer help if Hikaru didn’t explain the problem.

 

Akira felt as though it was hours before Hikaru spoke, though in reality it was little more than a minute, but the other boy’s voice still made him jump.

 

“I had a friend,” Hikaru began quietly, his eyes focused on the carpet before him.  “He came to me just before I met you.  He was a kind, gentle person, probably one of the few truly good people left in the world.”  Hikaru closed his eyes against the flood of memories.  “He was a…stranger to the area, and he had no one to talk to but me.  He could get on my nerves sometimes, hanging out with me day after day, but he only ever made one real demand of me, and that was to play Go.”

 

Akira smiled encouragingly.  “Had you ever played before you met him?”

 

Hikaru shook his head.  “Never.  I’d watched my grandpa play a few times, but I never had an interest.”  His ears turned slightly pink.  “I thought it was just some old game for geezers.  Why should I care about it?”

 

Akira stifled a laugh.  How like Hikaru that was…

 

“Anyways, my friend loved Go.  He’d been playing it for years, probably since he was a child, like you.  He was an amateur, but he was as strong as any pro.”  - _Sai, you were the best.  I’m sorry…it should have been me who went away…_ -  Hikaru swallowed.  “The problem was that he wasn’t able to play without me.  Whenever he wanted to go out or do anything, I had to be with him.”

 

Akira’s brow furrowed.  “Why?  Was he handicapped?”

 

“Yeah, in a way I guess he was,” Hikaru agreed, his mind looking back at his friend.  “He needed…help getting around, and I was the only one…available, I guess.”  He shook his head ruefully, remembering that first day at school when he’d asked Sai if the spirit could simply possess someone else, and being turned down.  What a day that had been!  “Anyway, in the beginning I just watched him play, but after just a few days I decided I wanted to play, too.  He was so passionate about the game.  It was like an extension of his soul.  He put everything he had into each of his moves.  It was like watching someone create a piece of art.”  Hikaru’s heart clenched as he met Akira’s eyes for the first time during the conversation.  “He was so much like you,” he whispered.

 

To hear himself described so passionately made Akira’s heart twist, but what hurt even more was the pain and sorrow reflected in Hikaru’s eyes.  “Shindou…”

 

“I wanted to be a part of that,” Hikaru continued, forcing himself to keep talking, knowing that if he stopped, he’d never be able to start again.  “I wanted to know what it was like to be so serious about something, to feel that rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the battle.”  He lowered his eyes.  “So my friend began teaching me.  It was slow going at first.”  He smiled faintly at the memories of long days and nights spent with Sai in his room, playing, training.  “He was a great teacher, but he was so bloody strong.  I used to get so fed up with playing him!”  He glanced up, and for a brief moment, Akira saw a flash of the old Shindou Hikaru in his rueful gaze.  “It’s frustrating playing a game you know from the start you’re going to lose.”

 

“I understand completely,” Akira agreed.  “That’s exactly how I feel when I play my father.”

 

- _Touya Meijin…Sai…_ -  Hikaru lowered his eyes once more, and Akira sighed.  The shroud was back in place.  “He was as strong as your father, and every bit as determined,” Hikaru whispered.  “He could have taken the world by storm.  But then…”  His voice trailed off.

 

Akira leaned forward slightly.  “What happened?” he prodded gently. 

 

“I started getting better,” Hikaru replied simply.

 

Akira looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

 

Hikaru sighed heavily, the self-directed annoyance and anger apparent in his voice.  “I mean I screwed up big time,” he retorted.  “After playing you, especially after the third board match between Haze and Kaiou, I knew I was going to become a pro.  I had to, in order to become better.  I had to…”  - _I had to reach your level…I had to play you evenly…I had to be good enough not to disappoint you again…_ -  “So I became an Insei, and I started playing more and more on my own.”  He clenched his fist.  “But the more time I devoted to my own games, the less time I had for my friend.  He was very patient in the beginning.”  Hikaru cracked a painful smile.  “I think he might even have been proud of me.  But little by little I stopped letting him play, because it interfered with my own games.”

 

Realization dawned suddenly and sharply, and Akira’s bright eyes widened.  All this time, he’d thought Hikaru was simply in denial, or even that he was somehow searching for a reason not to play.  But it wasn’t that at all.  Hikaru wasn’t neck-deep in pain or fear.

 

It was guilt.

 

“What happened?” Akira asked quietly, bracing himself for the worst.  Guilt was the most overpowering emotion a person could suffer.  If that was indeed Hikaru’s curse, it would take everything he had to bring his rival back.

 

Hikaru shrugged listlessly.  “He started asking me to play more and more often, and instead of letting him, I just got more and more annoyed.  I let him play when it didn’t interfere with my games, but those times became less and less frequent.”  He swallowed against a lump in his throat.  When he’d begun his story, he hadn’t realized how painful it was going to be.  “Then he started telling me that he was going to be…leaving.”  Hikaru closed his eyes.  “I didn’t believe him.”  - _Sai, forgive me.  I was so stupid…_ -  “I didn’t think that it was possible.  He’d been with me for over two years.  He was so much a part of me that I couldn’t imagine life without him.  I thought it was just a ploy to make me feel sorry for him and let him play.”  Hikaru snorted.  “I should have known better.  I should have known he’d never lie about something so important.”  He lowered his eyes.  “But I didn’t…and then he was gone.”

 

Akira’s fingers itched to touch Hikaru’s shoulder in sympathy, but he wasn’t sure the gesture would be welcome.  – _Shindou…now I understand._ \-  No wonder he would feel so guilty.  His teacher, the one who’d taught him not only the rules of the game but had given him his passion and drive, had died just when Hikaru’s career had started taking off.  He’d stopped paying attention, and then his friend was gone.

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Akira said quietly, after a few moments of silence.  “I understand the pain you’re going through.”  He lowered his eyes.  “If my father had died of that heart attack…”  His voice trailed off, and Hikaru snorted quietly.

 

“That wouldn’t have been the same thing,” he retorted.  “You would have mourned him, of course, and you would have missed him, but you wouldn’t have had regret like this.  You never neglected your father, and you especially would never have refused to play him if he’d asked.”  Hikaru clenched his fist.  “You’ve always respected and loved your father, and you’ve always been grateful to him for all he taught you.  I can tell.  You never would have taken that and then turned around and spat in his face.  Not like me.”  A lump formed in the back of his throat.  “He gave me the world… _his_ world…and the only thing he ever asked was to remain a part of it.”  Bitterness and self-loathing coated his voice.  “But instead I turned my back on him and followed my own stupid pride.”  He shook his head.  “It should have been him playing all those years, not me.  And I’ll never play again.”

 

Hikaru’s tone was final, and his words brooked no argument, but Akira wasn’t nearly ready to pack up and leave.  Guilt was a very powerful emotion, one easy to be overwhelmed by.  Hikaru wasn’t going to be able to break free without a fight.

 

Akira’s lips twitched slightly at the thought.  After all, if there was one thing he was good at, it was inducing a fight with Shindou Hikaru.

 

“So that’s it, then?” Akira asked finally.  “You’re just giving up?  Your friend died, so you’re going to let all his teaching go to waste because you’re feeling too guilty to play?”

 

Hikaru looked at him sharply.  “What I did was unforgivable,” he snapped back.  “Don’t you get it? I don’t deserve to play!”

 

“And what good is this self-imposed punishment going to do?” Akira demanded.  “It won’t bring your friend back.  It won’t allow him more time to play.”

 

“I know all that!” Hikaru retorted angrily.  “I know it’s too late to make amends.  I just…I can’t play again.  Can’t you see?  It _hurts_ too much!”

 

“Of course it hurts!  It’s supposed to!”  Akira’s eyes pierced him like emeralds.  “You made a mistake, maybe even a big one.  But it’s over and done with, and there’s nothing more you can do.  Just sitting here and watching your life waste away isn’t going to accomplish anything.  Do you honestly think this is what your friend would have wanted?”

 

“No, it’s not!” Hikaru snarled.  “But what do you want me to do?  Every time I pick up a stone, all I’ll see is his face!  Each game I play, I’ll wonder what he would have done differently!  I’ll never be able to move forward like that!  I can’t just put it all behind me, but I can’t bear to be reminded of him like that day after day.  It would kill me!”

 

Akira’s eyes burned.  “Then I’d say you have a choice, Shindou.  You can just sit here and let your Go board gather dust, finish school and get a job you hate, and live out the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself, or you can _fight back_!”  Akira leaned forward, his fingernails digging into Hikaru’s carpet.  “Whether you like it or not, you’re a Go player.  That’s what you were meant to be, and now that you’ve started, you’ll never be able to stop.  I know!  I’m the same!  You and I could do other things, yes, but we’d never be happy.  Go is in your blood.  That adrenaline rush, that passion you said you wanted - you’ll never be able to find it anywhere else.”  He stretched out on the floor and reached out to grasp a leg of Hikaru’s Go board.  “ _This_ is your life, Shindou.  Your _only_ life.  You know it, and I know it.  So you can either waste away doing something else, never really living, or you can fight to hold on to the most precious thing you will ever have in your life.”

 

Hikaru’s eyes had widened during Akira’s tirade, and confusion and doubt plagued him.  He knew his rival was right, but…  - _Sai, what do I do?  Help me!!_ -

 

“Fight, Shindou,” Akira whispered, his gleaming eyes still locked onto Hikaru’s.  “Fight this the way you’ve always fought me, with your whole heart and soul.”  He tapped the board.  “This is your destiny, the destiny your friend gave his life for you to have.  Take it!”

 

“But all I’ll see is him!” Hikaru protested desperately.  “I’ll never get away from his style, his shadow.  Every move I play, every strategy I devise, he’ll be there!”  - _All it’ll do is remind me of him, of how I’m not worthy to play, how he should be there instead of me…_ -

 

“And is seeing him in your game so bad?” Akira demanded, slamming an open-faced palm on the Go board, the resounding _smack_ making Hikaru jump slightly.  “He was your teacher, after all, your mentor.  It’s only right that he should be present in each of your games.”  Inspiration struck like lightning, and Akira felt his mouth curve into a smile as he brought their verbal match into _yosei_.  “Would you deny him his only chance to live on, Shindou?” he asked gently.  “Instead of letting his shadow drive you into guilt, let it be a comfort, reminding you that he’s still with you in spirit.  In your _game_.”

 

“In my…game?”  Hikaru’s lips parted in genuine wonder.  This was truly not a thought that had occurred to him.  His fear of seeing Sai in his games had come from the belief that all it would do is remind him of his own weaknesses.  What if Akira was right, and it was instead a strength?  Over the past two years he’d gotten better and better at predicting where Sai would move.  He’d even told the spirit that once, admitting that he’d gotten out of more than one tight spot by visualizing where Sai would play if he were there.  Perhaps…perhaps Akira was right.  Was this not a form of guilt, but of keeping Sai’s spirit alive?

 

- _I’ve looked for him everywhere else,_ \- Hikaru admitted to himself.  – _I even went all the way to Innoshima, to Torajirou’s grave.  He wasn’t anywhere to be found.  I thought if I proved I didn’t need to play, if I promised to let him play all the games he wanted, he would come back.  But what if that’s not the way it works?  What if the only way to find him, to bring him back…is to play?_ -

 

Akira could feel his rival’s uncertainty, and he nodded encouragement, trying to give Hikaru some of his own strength and confidence.  “Come on, Shindou,” he whispered.  “What have you got left to lose?”

 

- _What have I got left to loose…?_ -  If he was being honest with himself, Hikaru knew the answer.  Without Sai, he had nothing.  Nothing except the game the Heian spirit had given him.

 

Maybe that was enough.

 

“I…I don’t know,” Hikaru replied finally, his eyes resting hesitantly on his Go board.  “I don’t want to stop playing, but…”  - _I thought if I stopped playing long enough, if I could prove I didn’t need to play any more, Sai would come back.  If you’re wrong about him being in my game, this could drive him away for good.  Sai…tell me what to do!_ -

 

Akira sat back up and folded his arms.  “It’s your choice, Shindou,” he said quietly.  “It always has been.”

 

- _You’re wrong, Touya…it was never my choice…_ -  Always, Hikaru had played for someone else, never himself.  First it was for Sai, and then for Akira.  Maybe it was time he started making his own choices.

 

- _Sai…are you really waiting for me…in my game?_ -

 

“What do you want, Shindou?” Akira asked quietly.

 

- _Sai!!_ -

 

Eyes burning, decision made, Hikaru swiftly turned and met his rival’s fierce gaze.  “I want to find him,” he said, his voice harsh and brittle with determination.  “I want him to know I took what he taught me seriously.  I want him to know I’ll never forget…anything.”

 

Akira nodded, his eyes firm and steady, but inside his heart was beating rapidly.  This was it, the match he’d waited so long for.  It wasn’t precisely the way he’d wanted it, and if he was being honest, he was disappointed that there would be a third presence manifested in the game he’d wanted to be between him and Hikaru alone, but there was no help for it.  Once Hikaru found the answers he sought, they could get back on track, and he would be able to face his rival again.

 

First, he had to help rid Hikaru of his ghosts.

 

Akira’s eyes were as sharp as emerald flint as he regarded his eternal rival.  “Let’s play,” he whispered.

 

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

Hikaru found his hands were actually shaking as he lifted a black stone between his fingers.  He looked down at the seemingly innocuous piece of shale, and his heart twisted in pain.  – _Sai…you loved this game so much, and yet you couldn’t even touch the stones.  Forgive me…I know I’m not worthy to take your place, but please,_ please _let Touya be right.  Don’t let my playing drive you away.  Let me find you instead!_ -

 

Akira remained silent while his rival calmed himself, although if he was being honest, he was almost just as nervous.  It had been over two years since they’d faced one another across a Go board, and the same butterflies of anticipation that had been tap dancing in his stomach then had returned for an encore performance.  This time he knew he was not going to be disappointed in Hikaru’s play.

 

This time, the game would be real.

 

“Are you ready, Shindou?” Akira asked quietly, when he judged his rival had had enough time to complete whatever prayer he’d been sending out.

 

Hikaru looked up from the stone, his fingers curling around it.  Akira was already wearing his “game face” – eyes narrowed to emerald slits, face impassive, brow furrowed.  It was a stance that made even top pros sweat.

 

For some odd reason, Hikaru found it comforting.

 

“Yes.  Let’s do it.”

 

Akira inclined his head.  “Very well.  _Onegai shimasu_.”

 

“ _Onegai shimasu_.” 

 

Hikaru slammed down his first stone.

 

Though his opening move commanded all the strength and power it normally did, Hikaru found himself placing the stones more and more reverently as the game progressed.  He was no longer playing for himself, no longer worried about increasing his ranking or qualifying for a title.  Hikaru was instead playing for someone else entirely, and he allowed himself to be carried away by the sensation.

 

- _I’m not you, Sai, and I never could be, but please, if you can, send me your spirit just one more time.  This is_ your _game.  I’ll place the stones.  Just tell me where to go!_ -

 

Hikaru played on instinct, his mind focused solely on his friend and mentor.  He had yet to feel the spirit’s touch, but, strangely, he felt none of the guilt and regret that had plagued him constantly since Sai’s disappearance.  It was as though his restless soul had finally found peace.  – _Was Touya right?  Is this what you wanted?  Sai!_ -

 

Akira said nothing during the game, and he instead focused on splitting his attention between the Go board and his rival’s face.  Hikaru’s expression seemed free of pain, and his forehead was creased with concentration rather than worry.  The game itself was progressing beautifully, and Akira knew he should be feeling pure exhilaration at the result of his persistence.  Shindou Hikaru was _finally_ facing him across a Go board, and the match was everything he could have dreamed of.

 

Except Hikaru wasn’t the only one playing it.

 

When Akira had suggested that Hikaru’s former mentor would manifest himself in Hikaru’s game, Akira had not believed his statement would be taken quite so literally.  He had often found himself playing moves that his father favored, and every now and again Ogata-sensei would comment how his style was so like his father’s.  Akira always appreciated these moments, because he respected his father so much.  To be honest, he’d never thought that much about it.  After all, why should Touya Akira’s Go _not_ resemble Touya Kouyou’s?

 

But this…this was different.

 

Akira watched the game progress, and his eyes occasionally flicked up to see Hikaru, almost trance-like, place his next stone.  The moves were Hikaru’s, there was no mistaking it, but there was something more – an intangible presence that Akira fought to identify.  This was more than seeing someone else’s moves reflected in another.  This was something…divine?

 

Hikaru, unaware that his moves were being scrutinized for anything other than simple attacks and defenses, was finally starting to relax.  He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he’d honestly missed playing Go.  Akira was right, it had become part of his heart and soul, and there was no way he could give it up.

 

If only…if only…

 

- _I don’t want to play alone…I don’t want to wonder what you would have done if you’d been playing.  Sai!  Join me!  You’ve been a part of me for so long…don’t leave me now!  Send me a sign!  Let me know you’re still there!  Sai!!_ -

 

Hikaru placed a stone…

 

…and Akira let out a startled gasp.

 

“Touya?”  Hikaru looked up in surprise.  “What is it?”  - _Did I catch him off-guard?_ -  A surge of excitement raced through him.  – _Did I surprise him?  Have I really gotten that good?_ -

 

Unable to contain a grin, Hikaru looked down to marvel at his apparent masterpiece, only to have his own eyes widen in shock.

 

- _How…when…what…_? _-_

 

Hikaru swallowed painfully.  – _Ask and you shall receive…_ -

 

With shaking fingers, Akira reached out and lightly touched the black stone with the very tip of a perfectly manicured fingernail.

 

“Sai,” he breathed.

 

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

 

Silence reigned.

 

Hikaru, caught up in memories and in wonder, stared at the still-vibrating Go stone as though it held to key to eternal Enlightenment.  Akira sat frozen to the spot, his hands clenched on his knees.  He’d know that style anywhere.  There would be no more lies, no more deceptions, no more avoidances.

 

- _No wonder Shindou’s play reminded me so much of Sai…_ -

 

“He was your teacher, wasn’t he?” Akira asked quietly.

 

Too stunned and too mentally exhausted to argue, Hikaru simply nodded.  “Yes.”

 

Akira lowered his eyes.  Everything was finally fitting into perfect place, and yet he could no longer be happy about it.  Hikaru had been right about one thing – Sai had been a genius of the first magnitude.  His father had talked about nothing except the Internet game he’d shared with the faceless master for weeks.  Akira himself was still reeling from his own match.  The loss of that innovation and imagination was terrible, and Akira could understand his rival’s guilt.

 

But it explained so much!  Sai’s genius would have rubbed off quicker on Hikaru than a normal teacher’s would have.  No wonder their style’s resembled one another so closely.

 

Now was not the time to deal with that, however.  Hikaru was still shell-shocked, staring unblinkingly at the stone.  He had found his mentor, but was it enough?

 

“Talk to me, Shindou,” Akira pleaded in a whisper.  “What are you thinking?”

 

Hikaru was silent for almost a full minute, and when he finally spoke, his voice was so soft Akira had to lean in closer to make out the words.

 

“I don’t…I don’t know what to think,” Hikaru whispered, his fingers clenching and unclenching rhythmically.  “I’m just…numb…all over.”  He swallowed painfully.  “I wanted you to be right…I wanted to find him in my game…but until it happened, I couldn’t believe it.”

 

Akira’s heart clenched painfully.  “Shindou…”

 

Hikaru wrapped his arms tightly around himself, as though he were violently cold.  “For weeks now, I haven’t played.  I managed to convince myself that if I stopped, if I could prove to him that I didn’t need to, he’d come back.”  His fingers squeezed his arms, leaving white fingerprints on the skin.  “I thought if he saw that I stopped, he would come back.”  He raised his eyes to Akira’s, and there was barely controlled panic in them.  “I’d never ask to play again if he came back!  I’d let him play every game, just like he deserved to!  I stopped so that he would know that!”

 

Akira didn’t think about his next action.  He only knew that his rival, his _friend_ , was in pain, and that, somehow, he had the ability to help.  Before he even knew what he was doing, he moved around the Go board and knelt next to Hikaru.  Reaching out, he grasped Hikaru’s hand and gently pried his fingers away from his arm.  If Hikaru noticed, he didn’t show it.  Akira had the feeling his mind had left this world, seeking the mentor who had been forced to abandon him.

 

Squeezing Hikaru’s hand tightly, then releasing it, Akira said softly, “He knows, Shindou.  He knows that he was more important to you than Go.  He knows that you would give up everything to see him again.”  His voice grew deeper with emotion.  “But it’s not going to happen.  He’s gone, Shindou.  Gone for good.  And no matter how much you want him back, no matter what you would do for him, there’s no way to bring someone back from that place.”  Leaning over, Akira tapped the Go board.  “But you just proved that he _is_ still alive.  He’s alive in _you_.”  Akira searched Hikaru’s eyes for even a spark of understanding.  “If you stop playing now, Sai really _will_ die.  Don’t do that, Shindou.  Let him keep at least some part of himself in this world.  Play.  _Live_.”

 

Hikaru was silent for almost a full minute as he allowed Akira’s words to sink in.  His rival was right; nothing would bring Sai back this time.  In a way, Hikaru knew the spirit must be happy.  Despite his desire to continue playing Go to reach the Hand of God, it couldn’t have been easy for him to exist as a shadow of his former self, not even able to touch his precious Go stones.  Now, at least, he was finally at peace.

 

- _But I’m not dead yet._ -

 

And that, he knew, was what Akira wanted him to understand.

 

Sai was the genius, there was no disputing that.  But Fujiwarano Sai had been a ghost, dead for one thousand years.  Even his avatar, Honinbou Shuusaku, had been cold in his grave a century before Hikaru was born.  Sai was the past.  And he had given up everything in order to ensure Hikaru had a future.

 

Maybe Hikaru wasn’t as good as Sai, but he was the only one left in the world who could keep his spirit alive.  Maybe, just maybe, that was good enough.

 

“Sai wouldn’t want you to give up,” Akira whispered, as though reading Hikaru’s thoughts.

 

“No,” Hikaru agreed quietly, raising his eyes finally to meet his rival’s.  “No, he wouldn’t.”  Looking back down, he squeezed his hands together.  Sai’s hands had been slimmer, paler, with longer fingers.  Those hands had created unparalleled beauty and passion.  Hikaru couldn’t mirror that, not yet, but perhaps he could do the next best thing.

 

“He really does live in me, doesn’t he?”  Hikaru smiled slightly at the thought.  “I can still play his moves, give his game life.”  - _I’m not you, Sai, and I know I’m not worthy to replace you, but maybe, if I try hard enough, I can at least keep you alive.  Just keep playing with me like you did today, and there’s nothing we can’t do!_ -  “If I stop playing now, I’ll lose the last piece of him still remaining in this world.  I owe him more than that…so much more.”  Hikaru paused, then his eyes flicked back up to Akira’s.  When he spoke again, the hesitation in his voice was clear.  “I know I’m not as his level yet, and I probably never will be.  But…the two of us together…maybe…maybe we can…come close.”

 

Akira smiled softly.  This was as close to a truce as he was ever going to come with his rival, and he knew it.  “I understand,” he said quietly.  And then, reaching out, he lightly touched Hikaru’s hand with the very tips of his fingers.  “You carry a heavy burden, and there’s no reason you should have to do it alone.  If you are willing to share his spirit with me, I would be honored to carry it with you.”

 

Hikaru smiled back, slowly at first, and then it was as though an inner light was suddenly switched on.  Akira knew he’d finally thrown off his shroud of darkness.  He would never truly recover from his mentor’s death, but at least he had a reason to keep going.

 

It was always easier to live for someone else, wasn’t it?

 

“More than anything, Sai wanted to achieve the Hand of God,” Hikaru said softly, breaking into Akira’s thoughts.  His voice had a hint of shyness to it.  “Maybe, someday, you and I…”

 

Hikaru’s voice drifted off before he finished the sentence, but Akira nodded.  “I hope so.  I truly hope so.”

 

There was another moment of silence, then Hikaru sat up straighter.  “This doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything, you know,” he added, the twinkle in his eye belaying the harsh words.  “You’re still my rival, and I’m still chasing after you.”  He looked Akira straight in the eye, suddenly serious.  “One of this days, I _will_ catch up, and then I’m going to take you down.”

 

Akira laughed, the first laugh he could remember in a long time that came from deep inside him.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he assured Hikaru.  Then his eyes narrowed, assuming his “game face” in a split second.  “I won’t be going any easier on you, either, I assure you.  And it’s going to take more than just empty threats to beat me.”

 

Hikaru’s eyes glittered.  “I’ll remember that.”  Then he leaned back, took one last glance at the Go board and the pattern Sai had helped him create, and reached out with one hand to sweep the stones aside.  “Do you mind if we play another game?”  He caught Akira’s sharp eyes in his.  “I want to fight you myself this time.”

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Akira said readily.  “Let’s do it.”

 

It was then, as they began to move back to their respective sides of the Go board, that they realized that, sometime during the last part of their conversation, the fingers that Akira had laid on Hikaru’s for comfort had become entwined together.

 

Hikaru looked down at their hands, keeping his perfectly still.  Akira’s fingers were longer than his, slimmer, paler.  – _Like Sai’s…_ -  He looked up at his rival, drinking in the sight of the deep, emerald eyes that met his unflinchingly.  Hikaru smiled faintly.  Sai had been the one to teach him both the mechanics of Go and a deep, unending passion for the game.  He never would have given Go a first thought, much less a second, if he hadn’t been possessed by the benevolent spirit.  But it was for Touya Akira that he had begun playing, and it was for Touya Akira that he would now return.  Sai would always be with him, inside his soul, but Akira…

 

Akira _was_ his soul.

 

Sai had given Hikaru Go, but he’d also given the boy something infinitely more precious.

 

- _I guess I really do have a reason to go on after all…_ -

 

Without a word, the two separated and knelt opposite one another.  Without bothering to _nigiri_ , Hikaru reached into his _goke_ and pulled forth a black stone.  Briefly, he squeezed it between his fingers, paying silent homage to his master.  – _Sai, you couldn’t even touch these stones, but you gave the game a depth and meaning that no one else ever will.  I may be the one playing, but I know I will never play alone.  I know you’re always with me._ -

 

Looking across the board, Hikaru met Akira’s sharp eyes.  “ _Onegai shimasu_ ,” he said quietly.

 

Akira felt his lips curl up in response.  “ _Onegai shimasu_.”

 

Hikaru looked down once more at the stone between his fingers.  Sai had given him this stone, this game, and he would be forever in the spirit’s debt.  But now it was time to move on.  Sai would always be with him; he had no fear of being along.  But he also knew now that there was someone else who would be with him on his journey, someone who would push him onward when he faltered and pick him up when he fell.  Someone who wasn’t Sai, but who had become an even more integral part of his life.

 

- _Thank you for bringing us together…_ -

 

With that, he played his first stone.

 

Akira dipped his fingers into his _goke_ and pulled out a white stone, paused for a fraction of a second, and responded to Hikaru’s move.

 

It had taken a long time, but now, finally, they could start moving forward.

 

This time, they’d do it together.

 

Hikaru’s eyes narrowed as he considered Akira’s move, then claimed another corner opposite his rival’s.

 

- _Maybe someday I’ll tell you the whole truth about Sai.  For now, let’s just enjoy this; let’s just play.  It’s enough._ -

 

Akira smiled as he placed his next stone, as though he heard Hikaru’s silent words.  It had taken a lot of persuasion, a lot of fighting and screaming and crying, but he finally had Shindou Hikaru back right where he wanted him – kneeling before him across a Go board.  There were still a lot of things that needed to be worked out between them, but this was a start, and right now, this was all that mattered.

 

- _You ran from me Shindou, but this time, I proved I could keep up.  I’ll never let you run from me again.  From here on, we’ll run together…and we’ll reach heights that no one, not my father, not even Sai, ever claimed._ -

 

Their lives, their battles, their games, were just beginning.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *          

 

And somewhere in the darkness, out of sight and out of sound but never out of time, a one thousand-year-old spirit smiled behind a fan, and settled down to watch the game.  He had a feeling it was going to be brilliant. 

 


End file.
